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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28054932">Shaky Hands- Prompt Fill</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaincravatthecapricious/pseuds/captaincravatthecapricious'>captaincravatthecapricious</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Disassociation, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nausea, No beta we kayak like Tim, Road Trips, Vomiting, post episode 159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:28:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,757</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28054932</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaincravatthecapricious/pseuds/captaincravatthecapricious</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon and Martin on the way to Scotland.  Jon isn't doing so hot.  Neither is Martin, but this was a hurt/ comfort prompt for Jon.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>121</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Shaky Hands- Prompt Fill</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/celosiaa/gifts">celosiaa</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Cw nausea, vomiting (nothing gross tho, promise), panic (but not too explicit), references to disassociation, and Jon typical negative self talk and guilt.  Set post 159!  (Can be read as a sequel to my last fic if you like.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jon's knuckles are white against the steering wheel of Daisy's car.  Martin is dozing next to him.  Face slack, and slowly regaining some color.  Very, very slowly.<br/>
Jon is tired.  So so so so so so tired.<br/>
The tension in his jaw is giving him a headache.  Then again, that could be any number of things.  Could be the thick exhaustion sitting in his limbs.  It could be the endless stretch of road in front of him and the endless stretch behind.  Although that is what is currently trying to force his stomach up his throat.<br/>
He's Fine.<br/>
He grits his teeth harder.  They don't have time to stop.<br/>
He would turn on the aircon, but he's worried about Martin.  Would the cold be too much like the Lonely?  Martin is still faintly shivering under the thick jumper he had donned after his shower back at his flat before they had left.<br/>
Wasn't driving supposed to Stop a person from getting carsick?  Christ there had been a time where he had trained himself to read in the car.  It had taken a while... and many errors much to the chagrin of his grandmother, but he had managed it.<br/>
Of course that didn't stop him from getting horrifically sick on that unfortunate "Team Archive" road trip and every time he was kidnapped.  Daisy had not been happy.  Jon shudders to think of it.<br/>
And now he's nauseous and sad.  Brilliant.  If he loses any self control, he will be a right bloody mess.<br/>
Then again, if he's going to be dreadfully ill, might as well get it over with.  Maybe he'll feel better?  Optimistic. Why should he assume that he would be so lucky.  He hasn't been lucky a day in his life.<br/>
He's lucky no one has caught them yet.  Yet.  That no one is following them yet.  Yet.<br/>
Seven and a half hours.  They are an hour in.   It’s dark.  How sure is he that no one is following them?  Did he catch a glimpse of police  lights?   Or was that just his overtaxed eyes playing tricks on him, the flash of a dashboard light against his glasses?   Was that a siren or the ringing in his ears.  His breath coming hot and fast against anxiety and his unhappy stomach.<br/>
Breathe Jon.<br/>
In through the nose out through the mouth.  Again.  Again.  Again.  Don’t hold the breath.  That will make it worse.   Something that Jon found hard to fathom.  How could he feel worse?  No.  Shouldn’t think like that.  Anything could happen.  A tire could blow out.  Martin could fall out of the car.  The engine could fall out of the car.  He could be sick all over the windshield and he could crash them into a tree.<br/>
No.  No.  No.<br/>
If a tire goes flat, there is one in the boot.  He Knows that.<br/>
Martin probably won’t fall out of the car.  It’s no more likely than Jon falling out of the car.  He tries to Know the odds to calm himself but all he gets is static and a worse headache for his trouble.<br/>
He doesn’t try to Know the odds of the engine falling out.  A headache any worse would cause him to be ill immediately.<br/>
As for the last possibility.  He won’t think about it.  He’s fine.  He is.  </p><p>It’s raining now.  Heavy sheets of the stuff batter the car.  Or at least rattle it.  Rattle Jon.  Quaking hands on the wheel.  His hands cramped and numb from his grip on the wheel.  His arms sore from it.  It’s been a long time since he drove.  And he was never very good.<br/>
He’s thirsty.  But putting anything in him sounds like a terrible idea.  But being thirsty makes him feel so much worse.<br/>
Martin is still asleep.  And Jon is just barely keeping it together for him.  Barely.  Martin needs to sleep.  Jon needs to let him sleep.  He tried to count trees earlier but with the rain and the dark he can’t manage that.  He can hardly see the road and he suddenly Knows about the oils rising in the rainwater from the road and making it that much easier for Jon to slide them off the road and get them both killed.  So close.  So close to being safe.  To being free.<br/>
His stomach lurches.  Again. He swallows hard.  Again. He can’t keep doing this.<br/>
The backs of his hands are tingling.   It’s getting hard for him to measure his breaths.<br/>
He is honestly not sure if this is panic or nausea.  Probably both.  Because he’s on the run again.  And this time he did actually legitimately kill someone.  A though that further turns his stomach much as he absolutely doesn’t regret it.  He was a horrible old bastard and he tried to take Martin.  But what if Basira?  Left to deal with his mess, that was his fault, right?  The hunters here for him.  Not-Sasha also after him.  If it weren’t for him, Daisy wouldn’t... she....<br/>
He’s gasping for air.  There are tears on his cheeks.  And he’s pulled to the wrong side of the road, emptying his stomach.  Door flung open.  Rain soaking his jumper.  Seatbelt digging into his shoulder.<br/>
It hurts and he’s crying harder.<br/>
And Martin’s hand is on his heaving back.  His other hand gathering his tangled hair.<br/>
He shouldn’t have woken him.  He should have pulled over and gotten out, but he’d been too sick.  Too dizzy.  Too tired.<br/>
Jon continues to gag.  He is shivering.  Rain running in rivulets down his spine.  Martin probably also getting soaked.  Martin who needs to stay warm and dry and not alone getting wet and cold and with only his miserable company.  He sobs around his body trying to expel all of the nothing he’s eaten over the last few days.<br/>
“Oh.  Oh, Jon.”   Martin’s voice to gentle.  It makes Jon sob harder.<br/>
Martin still rubbing his back.  Martin leaning as far as he can over to Jon’s seat and Jon knows it can’t be comfortable.  Jon doesn’t have the where with all to make any sound other than a pathetic whine.<br/>
“Jon, please are you alright?  No that’s a stupid question, you’re clearly not.  What can I do to help?”<br/>
Jon manages to swallow hard a few times and slowly tries to sit up.  The seatbelt digging in harder as it did not appreciate the sudden yank to the side.  He pulls the door closed, very much hoping he won’t need to open it again.<br/>
“‘M fine. It’s fine. Go back to sleep.”  His voice is worse than wrecked.  It’s hoarse and thick and damp.  “We’ll be there soon.”  They won’t.  That starts a sob tearing through him.  They need to keep going.  They need to keep going.  They’ve got to go before someone comes after them.  Jon can lose his lack of lunch when they’re safe.  And they aren’t safe and Martin isn’t safe.  And Jon can’t make his miserable body do anything but be cold and wet and still impossibly queasy and shake.  Shake with exhaustion, nausea, anxiety, cold.<br/>
“Jon, please talk to me?”<br/>
“Just carsick.  I’m fine.  Let’s go.”<br/>
Jon starts the car again and Martin sputters weakly.  Still cold and drained and Jon is just draining him further.<br/>
“Jon!  You’re soaked!  You’re sick!  You’re shaking!  Don’t you think any of those mean you shouldn’t be driving?”<br/>
Martin is probably right.  There’s only one of those things he can fix.  “I’ll.  I’ll get a spare jumper, alright?  But you shouldn’t be driving either.  I’ll be fine.  If I have to pull over a few more times… so be it.  But honestly I’ll be worse if I’m not driving and looking at the road.  And you... Martin I’m worried about you.”  He doesn’t want to say that Martin has been disassociating when he isn’t sleeping, for fear of making Martin defensive, or worse losing him to where ever his brain goes when he’s like that.   He doesn’t want to lose Martin to the fog or to himself.<br/>
Martin must know that’s he’s less fit to drive, or he would be arguing.<br/>
Jon wants Martin to go back to sleep.  He also selfishly wants Martin to stay awake and keep rubbing his back when he’s ill.   He wants Martin to hold his hand.  He wants Martin to hold him until the shaking stops, the headache stops, the dizziness stops, until his stomach stops rolling, until he’s no longer afraid.<br/>
Selfish.<br/>
Useless.<br/>
Pathetic.<br/>
He stifles another sob as he sheds his jumper and fumble blindly behind him for another from his backpack.<br/>
He turns off the hazard lights and shakily gets them back on the road.<br/>
His head buzzes with headache.   Worse now that he’s lost more liquid than he had to spare.  And the motion of the car is making his head swim more and his stomach turn.  Again.<br/>
Martin is handing him a water bottle.  Martin is carefully wiping away his tears.<br/>
“Please, you’ve got to drink something.”<br/>
Jon whines.   A truly embarrassing sound.   He doesn’t want to.  But he takes a couple very very measured sips.<br/>
“That’s very good.  Thank you.  It’s okay if we have to stop again, you know.”<br/>
Jon nods for unhappily.  He doesn’t want to open his mouth to say they probably won’t have a choice.  </p><p>Jon has to pull over several more times.  Each time more painful than the last.  </p><p>Shaking harder than ever before, Jon stops the car in front of a small, ...cute cabin.  It’s mid morning.   And Martin had commented several times on Jon’s claim that they would be there “soon.”   It’s still sprinkling and Jon is caught between how the cabin is both increasingly Not Daisy and yet very very Daisy.   He doesn’t have the energy to dwell on that, though.  He takes slowly retrieves his bag and wavers the few steps towards the door.  His hands shaking almost too much to find the key and unlock it.<br/>
His vision is darkening around the edges.  </p><p>He flutters awake in Martin’s arms.   They are on a bed Jon doesn’t recognize in a room Jon also doesn’t recognize.  He’s sore and thirsty and dizzy and exhausted.  His shoes have been removed and Martin is pressing him with more water.<br/>
“Sorry,” Jon manages to slur around sips that Martin is ferrying to his mouth.<br/>
“Shh.  Water then we are getting some sleep.  No more fainting.”<br/>
Jon doesn’t have energy to argue.  He drinks his water, and presses himself against Martin with a sigh.<br/>
They can talk later.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Send me more prompts!   I am captaincravatthecapricious on tumblr!  Let me know if you like this, your comments mean the world to me and encourage me to write more!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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